Just when you least expect it, it hits you: that
overwhelming wave of nostalgia. Just
today, as I was changing loads of laundry, I held my third son’s beloved
blankie, and instantly remembered the day he was born.
Perhaps the nostalgia comes from the fact that today is my
daughter’s first birthday. One year ago
right now, my husband and I were anxiously awaiting her arrival in a hospital
room, full of joy. It doesn’t seem right
that it’s been a year already. I
remember holding her tiny little body for the first time, tears streaming down
my cheeks as I exhaustedly muttered, “Well, I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, my little
princess!” I remember handing her to my
husband, and watching his proud daddy look melt into a different kind of
love. I remember thinking that he looked
different gazing at her than when he first beheld each of our boys. I remember bringing her home to a house full
of love, with little boys begging to hold their sister. I remember changing her clothes way too often
because I wanted to play dress up with a little girl.
And now, that little girl is walking, and talking, and
drinking from a cup, and waving bye-bye…and I just am not ready for her to grow
up.
Just this past weekend, my husband and I were able to get
away for a night…the first time since we became parents! It was wonderful! But I’d be lying if I said that there wasn’t
a little bit of sad mixed in there. Our
two oldest boys, 6 and 4, have never slept away from home without us. And there they were, with their two best
friends, hugging our legs and waving us away.
We watched as they ran with their friends, farther and farther away, and
I thought to myself, surely, they are
still too little to have friends…to have a sleepover…to start making those
amazing childhood memories that include others besides ourselves. They had the time of their lives. They played in mud, collected rocks, built a
tent, and ran around playing soccer.
But I wasn’t expecting them to grow up this fast. They are reading, writing, understanding
jokes, developing skills and confidently using their talents…and I just was not
expecting this to happen so soon.
As I put my two-year-old son’s blankie into the dryer this
morning, I got misty eyed. I remember
when he first decided, in his baby mind, that this was his blankie. It was back in the day when I was still
nursing him and rocking him to sleep. It
was when he was my baby, no younger sibling.
It was when he preferred playing with me than to his brothers. It was before the days when he wrestled with
the boys and daddy, before the days when he thought burping was funny, and
before the days when he had a pajama preference. And though I was tired, overwhelmed at times,
and genuinely worn out as a mom of three young boys, I cherish those days of
innocence.
Last night, I kissed that little 2-year-old boy as I placed
him in a big boy bed. He has grown up
faster than the rest. He wants to be
just like his brothers, and so he’s said goodbye to his crib, his sippy cups,
and his baby toys. I didn’t realize that
seasons were changing until they changed.
My baby boy has turned into a walking, talking, cup drinking,
big-boy-bed sleeping, soccer ball kicking kid.
And I just wasn’t ready for that.
These days of mothering get hard. Wait.
That’s an understatement. There
are days when I literally say out
loud “Help me Lord! Or else I might
explode!” In fact, just this morning, I
was doing the laundry because my kids are sick…again…and yes, they “sicked” all
over their beds in the middle of the night.
Today was particularly challenging, but I realize that these moments are
fleeting. The busyness of young children
carry us…no, push us into the very next moment before we are ready for it. Even in the craziness, even in the busyness,
even in the “sicked” laundry, there are beautiful moments that amount to
nothing more than gifts. I get the
privilege of watching these little princes and this little princess grow and
become who they were intended to be. The
tantrums, the laundry, the diapers, the sleepless nights are par for the
course.
I probably will want to cry again sometime soon…maybe even
today! I probably will get so
overwhelmed that I have to stop and pray.
And that’s o.k. Everything that
is worth something requires those moments.
And there is nothing else worth more to me than my family.
I am so thankful for that little Winnie the Pooh blankie,
washed and dried and fresh again. It is
a reminder that though my little guy’s said sayonara to sippy cups, he still
has many years to grow. And though I am
not ready, I do love watching the process unfold. I do love watching my kids make friends and
discover who they are. There is no
greater gift than watching God’s hand on your child’s life. I just pray that I stop in the middle of all
the busyness to keep watching.
“Teach me how to
number my days that I might gain a heart of wisdom.” Psalm 90:12
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